


For You, From Me

by ALovelyLitwit



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALovelyLitwit/pseuds/ALovelyLitwit
Summary: Alex shows up at the junkyard on Christmas Eve. Michael offers him a beer. It starts to snow.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 19
Kudos: 97





	For You, From Me

**Author's Note:**

> I am avoiding writing Send Me Home smut. Please indulge me.

They aren’t talking. Not yet. The fire is warm and bright in Michael’s firepit, dancing shadows across their faces. Alex takes a long drag from his beer, and Michael does the same. There’s a storm brewing a few miles north, just over the mountains, and dusk has come a little earlier than usual.

Neither of them knows what they are doing. Why they are sitting silently across from each other on Christmas Eve not talking. That’s a lie. Michael thinks Alex stopped by out of some misplaced obligation. Alex thinks Michael is waiting for the perfect moment to ask him to leave, sometime soon after the politely offered beer is finished. So he’s drinking much slower than Michael thinks he is. 

The wind picks up and Michael stokes the fire, eyes risking the distance between them to catch Alex’s gaze. Questions bending the flames shining in his pupils. Still, he doesn’t say anything.

It starts to snow and it’s too cold to stay outside. Even Michael is no longer comfortable. But Alex doesn’t move beyond another sip from his beer and an absentminded rub at his knee. Michael doesn’t know what game they’re playing or even if they are playing a game at all. But he’s afraid if he moves first, he’ll wind up the loser.

(If you ask him what he’ll lose, his answer will be Alex. His answer is always Alex.)

So Michael cheats. Summoning his TK, he turns on the old radio inside the Airstream. There’s nothing but static so he shifts the dial through the various AM stations until Christmas music begins to play. Floating from the trailer and filling the spaces between them. 

Alex leans forward. Elbows resting on his knees, ear turned to listen. _O Holy Night_ drifts through the air, and Michael thinks he sees Alex smile. But he convinces himself it was nothing but hope spinning her web of lies.

‘This one’s my favorite.’ The break in their silence startles Michael, unexpected but welcome. He stays quiet because he wants Alex to continue. Because as long as Alex is talking that means Alex is staying and not leaving. Staying and not leaving and talking to him. 

It’s so simple really. Also, deceptive.

‘It was on that mixtape I made you. Do you remember? That first Christmas I had holiday leave? I tried to sing it myself but wasn’t very successful.’ Another pull from his bottle. Eyes focused on the storm over Michael’s shoulder. Snow falling in earnest now, piling around them.

Michael still has that cassette tape, the ink faded from how many times he’d traced over Alex’s handwritten _For You, From Me_. It’s not more than ten feet away, tucked safely inside his most worn boots. ‘I thought you sounded pretty great.’ The strain in his voice surprises him. A lump forms in his throat, and he swallows rough, wondering when something this simple won’t feel this hard.

Alex definitely smiles now. Teeth shining in the firelight. His sweater’s sleeves pulled halfway down his fingers. They really should go inside. ‘You’re biased.’

‘Absolutely.’ He smiles too. Brighter, broader. Begging Alex to notice how much he wants this. Alex sitting across from him. Sitting and staying and talking.

‘Storm’s picking up.’ Beer, sip, shaking the snow out of his hair. ‘I should go.’

No. No, no, no. ‘Sure. Don’t want you to get snowed in all the way out here.’ 

No. Goddammit, no.

Alex stands, the light dusting of snow falling from his thighs. ‘Merry Christmas, Guerin.’ And then, he’s walking away. A ghost in the night, swallowed by Christmases past. ‘Unless.’ He speaks and Michael stops breathing.  


Alex turns, steps closer. Once, twice. Stops just beyond the fire’s reach. Hands stuffed in his pockets.

The snow is blowing thick now. It’s too cold to be outside.

‘Unless you stay.’ Michael hears himself say it. Out loud and heart racing. 

‘Unless I stay.’ Unless he stays.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. 

Michael rises, slowly. Scared he might spook whatever this is. Walks to his door, swinging it open and stepping aside. Alex climbs his stairs and turns left, shrugging off his coat and lowering himself onto the edge of Michael’s bed. 

It should be awkward. Too much. And not ever enough. 

But it isn’t. 

Michael shuts the door. Eager, ready, done waiting. The lump gone, speaking easily now. ‘I could make some coffee. We could talk.’

Alex nods. Another smile, this one blinding. ‘I’d like that.’

_O Holy Night_ starts to play again. As if the universe believes in Christmas miracles too.

And they sit. And they stay. And they talk. The snow falling heavy around them.

Yes. Goddammit, yes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm litwitlady on Tumblr.


End file.
